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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27192526">Is it all just Propaganda?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BunnyJase/pseuds/BunnyJase'>BunnyJase</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>SladeRobin Week 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Slavery, Bottom Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, College grad Jason, Discrimination, Dom Jason Todd, Dom/Sub AU, Dom/sub, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Power Imbalance, Prejudice, Slave Slade Wilson, Sub Slade Wilson, Touch-Starved, elitism, future relationship, mentions of abuse, mentions of punishment, people given as gifts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:22:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,859</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27192526</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BunnyJase/pseuds/BunnyJase</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Day one of Sladin week – Dom/Sub world, Daddy Kink, Reluctant Soulmates. </p><p>Life has always had a way of putting Jason at the  forefront of social issues. First there was his treatment by the elites his father and grandparents called friends because he was adopted from the worst area of Gotham. Next there was his presentation as a dominant, quickly followed by his subset as a service dom. Then his grandmother, Martha, began dragging him to sub right’s rallies with her. Could a slave, another subset of submissives, be about to do the same thing?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, Martha Wayne/Thomas Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>SladeRobin Week 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985017</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>SladeRobin Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Is it all just Propaganda?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Getting into college was a massive thing for Jason Todd-Wayne. Before his adoption he never thought he’d get the chance to graduate high school, let alone go to college. Then he’d only gone and done it. Getting into Princeton, his adoptive father’s alma mater, to study Literature.</p><p> </p><p>While there he’d been convinced he wouldn’t graduate, and that if he did it wouldn’t be with honours. Only to come out with a degree certificate that stated he’d done it with magna cum laude. His acceptance into Colombia University’s College of Physicians and Surgeons surprising him further, though not surprising his family.</p><p> </p><p>As a service Dom his choice to follow in the footsteps of his grandfather wasn’t uncommon. They made formidable doctors, able to command a room while noticing the needs and wants of those around him. Thomas’ pride at at least one of his grandchildren following in his footsteps shut up any naysayers. The elite still doubting how a kid from the slums could achieve so much and be so well educated. Their jealousy and prejudice blinding them to the intelligent, caring boy Bruce had adopted.</p><p> </p><p>His family had just finished moving him into the apartment he’d be living in for the duration of his course; well, less the family and more, they got movers and took Jason to lunch and then planned for dinner in his new place as a mini housewarming; when there was a knock at the front door. Before Jason could even jump out of his chair, Thomas was at the door with Martha quick on his heels. His grandparents were clearly aware of who was there as they’d been shooting glances towards the door since they’d returned to the apartment.</p><p> </p><p>A tall, muscular man followed them into the living room. His white-silver hair shimmering in the light, one eye obscured by shadow in a way that pointed towards him having lost it in some way. His posture and general demeanour pointing towards the man being not just a submissive but also one of the many slaves that filled the world.</p><p>Both roles were genetic. The biology that made people a submissive held a subset that required them to serve. Their futures dictated as soon as both behaviours appeared.</p><p> </p><p>Tight laws covered what they could and couldn’t undertake. Including job opportunities and their rights of ownership. No slave could own property or live alone. A protector or owner required to live with them due to how they were perceived throughout society.</p><p>Where dominants were generals and higher in the armed services, their privates would always be submissive slaves. Their biological need to serve overriding their ability to drop into subspace if not helped there regularly. Almost as if they had to complete their tasks for their dom before they could go down.</p><p> </p><p>“Could you come here please my Bluejay?” Martha asked. She too was a submissive, her relationship with Thomas originally causing scandal as the dom gave her rights above what most saw as acceptable or normal. Her fiery nature pushing her to fight for the rights of every submissive who didn’t fall into the niche subset who’d caused all subs to be lumped together.</p><p> </p><p>Jason approached Martha with a buzz of nervous excitement coursing through him. He had a feeling he knew what was going to happen, another thing he’d never dreamed could happen when he’d been fighting to survive in a rotting squat in the poorest area of Gotham.</p><p> </p><p>She took his hand and pulled him to her side once he was close enough. Thomas’ hand coming to rest on his shoulder as he beamed with pride. Watching as the slave came to a stop and dropped to his knees, head dipped forwards, a glint of the collar he wore peaking out from under his shirt.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve made us very proud my boy, as a reward we got you someone to help however you need.” Thomas’ deep voice was always soothing and controlled, the voice of his grandfather settling Jason in much the same way Bruce’s always did and Willis never managed. “I know it may appear like we’re playing favourites, however, if any of your siblings choose to get their doctorates or masters then we’ll find them someone too. As the first in this family since I was at college myself it seemed like a good gift, just as Alfred had been from my parents to me.”</p><p> </p><p>For as progressive as his family were, the Wayne’s always seen out in full force at submissive right’s rallies, they still held the standard views regarding this smaller subset. They weren’t just made weaker than a switch or dom, they were utterly reliant on another controlling them and enforcing rules. Unable to live alone or function as a productive member of society as a full person.</p><p> </p><p>Jason looked down at the sub and wondered just how much of a nuisance having a slave around would be. His mother had only been a sub and she’d done nothing but get in Willis’ way while he’d been trying to make a better life for them. Sure, he’d been a bastard by the end, but Jason could remember a couple of years where his mom had been the cause of all their financial and family problems.</p><p>He managed to keep his expression neutral, an act that only dominants could do. Subs were weak, even his grandmother for all her strength was still at the whims of her biology. Needing to go down to function, unlike a dom who could go months without needing to act on their biology.</p><p> </p><p>There was an older gentleman behind the slave. Tall and thin with grey hair and sharp eyes, he gave off the air of someone high in the military. A former commander of some kind, maybe even special forces. He held out his hand to Thomas and then Jason, ignoring Martha as much as he was ignoring the slave.</p><p> </p><p>The Wayne’s tried to hide their disgust at the gesture, all having appeared in the spacious entryway of the excessively large penthouse Bruce had purchased. Clearly he didn’t believe she should have rights like they did. Most of them were doms or switches; Martha, Damian, and Duke were all subs who were lucky with their biology not to be in the minority who were slaves.</p><p> </p><p>“Mr Wayne, my apologies for our tardiness, traffic turned out to be a nightmare.” His English accent had a weird twist to it making certain letters drawn out and others lilted. Thomas just chuckled and waved him off, they’d encountered the traffic themselves so he was understanding…for once. “You’ve picked an exceptional slave I must say. Since becoming my property we’ve had no incidence that led to its first owner taking it’s eye. If it gives you any trouble you know how to contact me, I’ll be happy to show your grandson how it needs to be disciplined.”</p><p> </p><p>It was an unfortunate fact of life. Any person owning a slave was legally allowed to discipline them how they saw fit. So long as death didn’t occur then anything went, it was one of the few slave issues the Wayne’s wished to put a stop to. If this one’s past owner decided his infraction warranted the cock-handed removal of his eye, then they’d have had good reason to.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you for the swift delivery Mr Wintergreen. We’ll call if we need you.” With Thomas turning away to Jason and the slave after speaking Martha took the hint and guided Wintergreen to the door. The slave staying perfectly still and curved forwards.</p><p> </p><p>To allow Jason a chance to interact with his slave without the family interfering or Dick and Tim’s natures as switches distracting the slave, the family decided to head home. Goodbyes, as always, seemed to last an age. Every one wanting a hug from the only one not returning with them. Choosing to stay just long enough for Jason to skim the folder regarding his new sub to avoid any problems off the bat.</p><p> </p><p>Once the door had clicked behind them Jason looked down at the man and knew he needed to change that collar. It was the one claiming him as Wintergreen’s. If anything happened it’d be that bastard who got <em>his</em> slave back.</p><p> </p><p>Before leaving Bruce had handed Jason a slim, long velvet box. It’s soft black cover seeming to absorb more light than any black he’d seen before. Inside was a truly exquisite example of a collar.</p><p> </p><p>Handmade and one of a kind, it was a dark green leather that was an inch-and-a-half in width. Embossed on the front were the initials JTW in silver with a subtle D ring attached to the bottom seem. Hanging from it was the identifying chip mixed in with the emblem of a green bat, the Wayne family symbol in his favourite colour. Running along the side that would sit snug against the slave’s throat was his full name in tiny rounded silver studs. They’d leave an imprint in the slave’s skin to continue the mark of ownership, a detail that only the most expensive collars contained.</p><p> </p><p>Best and worst of all, the collar locked closed meaning only Jason would be able to take it off. Oftentimes it was a sign of an unruly slave, or one who’d been such earlier in life and had been taught to associate the lock more than the collar as the proof of their place. The unruly slaves were regularly diagnosed with mental problems pertaining to entering subspace, thus proving they really were the most useless of society. He just hoped that the slave wouldn’t be unruly for him.</p><p> </p><p>The leather was subtle, it’s softness pointing towards the slave no needing to wear it in. The buttery softness ready to be worn full time.</p><p> </p><p>Jason coughed to get the slaves attention, refusing to speak until that icy blue eye was on him. “Thank you. Now, I’m going to change your collar and then we’re going to talk.” He didn’t wait for an agreement. Moving forwards and swiftly changing the collar, a skill all doms were taught at school as some subs actually chose to wear them, unlike slaves who were legally required to.</p><p> </p><p>The lock clicked into place, his thumbprint securing it, and he stepped back again. Moving into the sitting room Jason wasn’t surprised when the slave stayed where he was kneeling.</p><p> </p><p>“Here.” Jason threw a pillow onto the floor. He’d look through the massive box Bruce had pulled out of the car just prior to leaving later, obviously containing everything he’d need now he had his own sub, after he’d had a rest from a stressful move.</p><p> </p><p>The slave shuffled in on his knees, keeping his hands behind his back with a rigidness that pointed to time in the armed forces. His frame was still managing to be imposing even on his knees. His wide shoulders and thick muscles looked easily enough to carry the younger man around if he’d so desired.</p><p> </p><p>He caught the sneer the slave gave to the floor but waited him out. He was clearly upset about something, and an upset sub was never a good thing. The sneer falling away to confusion when Jason didn’t strike him for his disobedience.</p><p> </p><p>Jason waited until he was settled on the pillow, settled back to sit on his heels with his head still dipped. “What is your name and what needs do you have?”</p><p> </p><p>“Slade, Sir. I need to go down at least twice a month-”</p><p> </p><p>Jason cut the man off with a wave of his hand. “I know what the packet said. I read it, that’s not what I meant. I want to know what <em>you</em> need. Not what your previous owners speculated you need.”</p><p> </p><p>The confusion had been replaced by shock. Clearly no-one had considered his needs. Why would they? Slaves were there to cater to the needs of their dom. However, Jason had researched the different subsets of each designation when he’d been learning about his own after he’d begun to show signs of being a service dom. In all that research he’d found a very small group of slave subs who were trying to improve the lives of all their subset. Their arguments regarding their own needs as subs still existing hitting, repeatedly, upon brick wall after brick wall.</p><p> </p><p>Having his own would enable Jason to get a more first-hand look into if these slaves had been right. After his life on the streets and then the continued bullying he faced by the elite of Gotham he’d come to detest anyone who treated others unfairly based purely on circumstance or designation. Hence why it was Jason who was always seen locked arms with Martha ahead of any of the family at every rally he attended.</p><p> </p><p>Slade gave an awkward cough and glanced away from Jason. Freezing at the last second, clearly expecting a punishment or reprimand. When none came for a second time he let go.</p><p>“I need help into subspace but prefer it only being once a month. The helplessness I feel when coming back up scares me and I’ve never had someone help with that. I joined the military as young as I could because their clear rules and structure is the best way to settle the OCD tendencies I have due to my subset.”</p><p> </p><p>Almost as if, once he’d started he couldn’t stop, Slade went on to detail the levels of punishment he needs for certain things. Skirting around how his previous two owners had never stuck to those limits. His hard limits were the first to come out on a hitched breath, no use of belts or isolation in confined spaces due to past trauma.</p><p> </p><p>All it would do is cause him to shut down and render him useless to his dom. Being useful and always having a job to do, even if that job was defined as relax with a book or the paper, kept him in the present.</p><p> </p><p>More and more came out. The barriers broken down by one tiny act of kindness, one tiny showing of him being treated like a human being and not a lesser creature. Ways he needed to be pushed. Wants for the future, including settling down and help connecting with the three children he’d given his previous owners. Adeline keeping Grant and Joey while Billy had sent him to a brothel to help out a Domme who’d kept the kid that resulted from their sex later in the contract. He didn’t even know his daughter’s name.</p><p> </p><p>It broke Jason’s heart. For years he’d believed the rhetoric. Treating any slave he met as not a full thinking and feeling person. Now, here he had his own one breaking down at the fact he didn’t even know his daughter’s name when Jason knew Billy did as he too knew it. Rose Wilson had been listed under Slade’s power of attorney if anything were to happen to Jason.</p><p> </p><p>He dropped his hand to Slade’s head and his heart broke further while his resolve to research the matter of subset inequality solidified. All because the older man had leaned into the touch while flinching, body showing all the signs of someone severely touch-starved.</p><p> </p><p>It wouldn’t have surprised Jason if Slade hadn’t been touched in the last twenty years outside of a punishment. There were obviously times he’d needed those punishments, but it was clear Adeline Kane and William Wintergreen had abused their power. An all too common practice unfortunately, not that Jason knew this yet.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you wish to keep the collar on while I’m home, or only when you’re alone or we’re out together?” Jason asked. Now worrying that the leather of the collar would be triggering memories of the man’s father.</p><p> </p><p>Slade hiccuped in an unusual show of vulnerability for himself. “I’d like to keep it on, if that’s okay. It grounds me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then that’s what we’ll do. Let me know if it needs to come off at any point.” Jason tipped Slade’s face up to catch the full reply to his next question. A question no-one ever asked their sub. “How do you wish to address me?”</p><p> </p><p>Blinking owlishly, he tried to pull away from the touch and look away. The dom having made sure to sit him on the side that’s keep Jason in his line of sight however he turned his head. A warning squeeze to his chin had the realisation setting in that his life might be about to improve. “May I call you by your name?”</p><p> </p><p>A smile broke across Jason’s face at him asking for what he wanted. Meeting Slade had catapulted him into a world he never expected to be in. The new beliefs he was forming sure to cause him plenty of problems over his coming years of study. He nodded and scratched through Slade’s hair again earning a fluttering of lashes and a head tilted into his hand.</p><p> </p><p>Could this be the start of a lifetime’s worth of work? Maybe, but all Jason knew for sure was that at the very least, he and Slade were going to have a wonderfully interesting time finding out.</p>
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